


Putting Memories of the Past to Rest

by danceswithhamsters01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Circle of Magi, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Mention of unintentional killing, Psychological Trauma, Swearing, The Warden has more in common with Connor than people suspect, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: The Fifth Blight was defeated over a year ago. The worst of the darkspawn conflict has been dealt with in Amaranthine. The Warden-Commander now has time to attend to other business and visit other places in the kingdom. The trip that Sevarra Amell has been dreading needs to be taken: it is time to revisit the Circle of Magi. While there, she checks in on the little boy whose life she fought so hard to save, Connor Guerrin.
Kudos: 9





	Putting Memories of the Past to Rest

For once, she was glad that the seneschal was insistent that she not make the journey alone. She was even more glad for the horse she rode upon. She’d faced down demons, dragons, darkspawn, broodmothers, and even politicians. But the thought of undertaking the journey she was on had made her knees weak for over a year. It needed to be done. The ghosts that haunted her dreams needed to be put to rest.

Her party left Soldier’s Peak the previous morning. If all went according to plan, they’d make it to the shores of Lake Calenhad by sundown. The Warden-Commander swallowed hard at the thought. The last time she’d been there…

“Commander! How’s the weather up there?” the smaller but broader man asked with a smile. _Gorven,_ she thought to herself, _his name_ _i_ _s Gorven_ : the second Casteless to volunteer to join their ranks and survive the Joining. Sigrun, the first, was overseeing matters back at Soldier’s Peak and would join them on their way back to Amaranthine the following week.

Sevarra blinked, pulling her mind from the dark corner it’d wandered into. “Oh, alright, I suppose. Nothing’s sucked the horse up into the sky, yet. Perhaps it’s the rocks I filled the bags with?” A grin accompanied her reply.

Gorven snorted and shifted in his saddle. He was astride a grey dappled mule. “Funny. Really funny. Y’know people back home believe that actually happens, right?”

She forced herself to chuckle. _Home._ She was on her way to visit the place that she used to call home. Not that she thought of it that way, not anymore. Not since what happened during the blight. She’d been given letters swearing up and down that the tower was once again safe, that nothing could cross the Veil again without an explicit invitation to do so. Spirits were trifles compared to the memories that prowled her mind and pounced when she tried to sleep. Spirits could be banished. Memories were more stubborn.

“Stories are the best people can do when they’ve had no experience with something for themselves. But unless you’ve got wings, the only way you’re going to get into the sky is if you get launched from a catapult. Even then, you’ll come back to the ground. Eventually.”

Gorven smirked. “I’ll take your word for it. Somehow, I think the coming back down part wouldn’t be pretty. It’d be a shame to wreck this handsome face.” He stroked one of his heavily tattooed cheeks and caressed the long brown braid that held his beard. “So, the reason we’re visiting this Lake Clean-bad place is?”

“Calenhad.”

“Hm?”

“They named the lake after Ferelden’s first king: Calenhad,” she replied.

“Right. Anyway, the reason we’re going there is?”

_Because I’ve been a cowardly ninny too afraid to visit her childhood home before now. Because I want to make sure that some of them survived the blight and that I wasn’t imagining it. Because I miss my old master. Because…_

“One part a favor to a friend, one part schmoozing, one part visiting old friends,” she pushed the words out with a lighter tone than what was in her heart.

“What sort of ‘old friends’ do you have by a lake, boss?” Govren asked with a snort.

“Well, one of the Circles of Magi, Kinloch Hold, makes its home on the largest island in the lake. It’s one of many places the Chantry insists mages be sent to train. Nearly every kingdom has at least one Circle in its borders. Ferelden has two. The other one is on the coast of the Waking Sea and doesn’t really like getting visitors. Besides, I was raised in Kinloch, the First Enchanter there is my old master. A visit is overdue, I think.”

“What’s a first enchanter?” the dwarf asked with a puzzled look.

“The local Circle’s leader, the top mage. He, along with the Knight-Commander, calls the shots about what goes on there.”

“So… they’re basically the leaders of your topsider mage Carta?”

A giggle flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Sort of, but not quite. Breaking the law is very heavily frowned upon. It’s more like a school than a criminal organization.”

“Well, sod. This visit just got a lot less interesting,” he pouted.

“Eh. Depends. The Circle _does_ get visitors from the Carta once in a great while. I remember being in the room while my master was haggling a deal a time or two. I was just an apprentice at the time. The Chantry doesn’t always send Circles enough lyrium for their mages and templars. Believe me, you don’t want the templars you are living with running short on lyrium. It makes them so bloody cranky having to deal with reduced rations of it.”

The party wound up spending the night at the inn of the village by the lake’s docks. Kinloch’s great ivory tower stood off in the distance, the silent monument to the craftsmanship of its many ages-dead builders. While Gorven and the other two Grey Wardens were enjoying themselves in the Tavern, Sevarra sat alone in a room, sitting on the bed. She stared thoughtfully at the well-stuffed canvas bag she’d dragged in with her. With a shake of her head, she grabbed it and poured its contents onto the bed.

Sealed letters, stuffed toys, wooden toys, books, tin boxes, and bolts of colorful cloth sat where the Warden-Commander poured them. Chancellor Eamon had pressed a pair of sealed letters into her hands back in Denerim when he heard of her plans to visit the Circle. They were for his son, Connor, plainly labeled above the wax seals bearing the image of the realm’s double war-hound heraldry. He made time to visit the boy when he could, but he wouldn’t have any free time to do so for a few months. Isolde, the boy’s mother, and also something of a new friend of the Commander’s, had insisted that she take another letter, a small army of tin boxes and bolts of warm cloth with her as well. Lady Guerrin had made it something of a mission to do what she could to make things more comfortable for the Circle’s apprentices. The tins held a variety of sweet biscuits meant for the children and the cloth was ear-marked for making warmer clothes to deal with the drafty tower. More cloth would be coming later on a supply caravan from Denerim.

Counting to make certain she hadn’t misplaced anything, the mage began putting things back into the bag. She stopped after grabbing a pair of wooden toys, an unconscious smile crawling onto her lips. She clutched a wooden griffon in one hand and a carved rearing high dragon with her wings spread wide in the other. The toys and storybooks had been her own idea. Mage children deserved to have time to play with toys, read tales, let their imaginations roam and simply be children. Thinking about the Circle’s future was certainly more comforting than thinking about its recent past.

The Warden-Commander and her companions were up just before the sun the following morning, waiting at the dock. Alessan, a brawny man who typically had a ready smile on his face was grumbling at nothing in particular as he endured the resulting hangover from the previous night’s drinking.

“Must everything be so bloody loud? Maker, hearing that water’s making my head hurt,” the blond man moaned.

Sevarra failed to hide her smirk. “You must have packed away an impressive amount of drink. It takes a Grey Warden so much more to get drunk than an ordinary man or woman. Are you sure you lot didn’t drain the inn’s kegs dry?”

Belladonna, a mousy-haired woman with startling yellow-green eyes, mirrored the Commander’s smirk. “What’s the matter, Goldie? Can’t take a bit of racket? You certainly made enough of one the other night, what with your singing Andraste’s Marbari over and over.”

Gorven, fresh as a metaphorical daisy, snickered. “At least he was able to stay in tune. Can’t say the same of most of the people who get sloshed back at Tapster’s.”

The other three Wardens gave the dwarf a questioning look.

“What? Just because I used to be a street-rat and then a hired thug doesn’t mean I’m ignorant about how to sing well. Give a guy some credit!”

Just then, Kester, the ferryman, came huffing and puffing up to the dock. “Me apologies, me lady! I didn’t mean for ya t’ be kept waitin’ on these ol’ bones of mine!” He stopped and gave Gorven a look, eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t told ya were bringin’ lyrium in. I don’t like bein’ near that stuff!”

Sevarra loudly cleared her throat. “He isn’t with the Carta. He’s a Grey Warden. All of us are Grey Wardens, actually.”

Kester had the stones to at least look taken aback. “Me apologies, ser! Most dwarf folks I’ve seen have been in the lyrium trade.”

“Yeah, well, I found a new line of work,” Gorven smirked. “So I take it you’re the fella who’s gonna get us to that strange white tower over yonder?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, aiming at Kinloch Hold’s tower.

The ferryman nodded. “Aye, that I am. The Lissie II will get you lot there safe and sound.”

“The Lissie II? What happened to your old boat?” Sevarra asked.

“It was the strangest thing, actually. The king himself said I needed a new one, then he had workers come by the next day to start buildin’ it! She’s a much roomier boat than the old Lissie,” the ferryman beamed.

“As nice as storytime is, can we _please_ get this over with?” Alessan whined.

“Right, right,” Kester said with a flush of embarrassment. “In you lot go, I’ll get ya to the Circle safe ‘n sound.”

The trip across the lake was an uneventful one. The sun crept over the horizon as they steadily bobbed their way to the tower’s dock. It was at least a couple of finger-widths above the horizon by the time they pulled in at the island’s eastern-most tip. That was when the first odd thing struck her. _Where’s the templar who usually st_ _ands_ _guard at the dock?_ They were met by a man in faded mage robes with a sunburst brand on his forehead: one of the Tranquil.

“Hello there, my good man,” the Commander began, “where’s the knight usually on duty out here?”

The Tranquil finished tying the boat to the dock before replying. “You will need to speak with the First Enchanter about that, my lady. I am assigned here for today.”

 _Oh, you best believe I will,_ she thought.

Alessan squinted at the tower. “How do we know it’s safe to go in there? I’ve heard stories about what happened there during the blight. Who’s to say that they didn’t miss… something in there?”

Sevarra rounded on him with silver eyes gone molten in fury. “Because I saw to it, _personally._ Now keep that fool mouth of yours shut before I shut it for you!”

“Stupid move, Goldie,” Gorven whispered to the man once her back was turned on the pair. “You know she grew up here, right?”

The blond Warden swallowed hard but wisely stayed silent.

Word of their arrival had obviously spread quickly. By the time they knocked on the great doors, they found themselves greeted by the First Enchanter and a pair of his senior enchanters. Irving’s features lightened with a broad smile once he laid eyes upon them.

“Ah, there you are! I was not expecting you to come personally, young lady. Oh, forgive me. I mean Commander.”

She offered a smile in return, but quickly noted the lack of templars by the doors as she and her party made their way into the entryway. “Quite alright, First Enchanter. You’ll forgive my diving right into things, I hope, but I have a question. Where are the templars? All on holiday or something of that nature?

Irving smirked. “In a manner of speaking. They have been reassigned elsewhere to comply with the King’s decree. Have you already forgotten the boon you asked of him after the archdemon was defeated?”

She blinked once, twice, three times. _He actually did it? He went through with it?_ “I-I thought he’d… nevermind. So they’re gone? All of them?”

He nodded. “The tower is entirely in the hands of mages and Tranquil as of last month. If we feel the need for guardsmen, I’ve been informed to speak with our bann, as he technically has to supply them if there are no templars to be had.”

One of the senior enchanters, a greying elven woman politely coughed. “First Enchanter, about the issue we spoke of earlier?”

“Oh? Oh right, yes, yes.” Irving turned back to face his old student. “I am afraid we have something of an issue with the storage caves. Dozens of issues, actually; all of them running around on eight legs each.”

The Commander smirked. “Oh, really? Belladonna?”

“Yes, Commander?” the other female Warden replied.

“Take the boys and follow this nice lady here,” she nodded at the elven enchanter, “and help her take care of those ‘problems’ running around the caves. Bring your weapons.”

“Aye, Commander.”

After the trio of Wardens vanished down the hallway with the senior enchanter, Alessan grumbling all the while, she turned back to face Irving. “How have things been since… Well, you know.” Her smile faltered. _If my heart would stop racing, that’d be great,_ she thought with annoyance.

He motioned for her to follow him. She scooped up her bag and followed him down the hall. After a time, he finally spoke. “This past year has been both bitter and sweet. Those of us who survived still deal with the memories of what happened. I suspect it is part of why Wynne has not elected to return home, yet.”

It took longer than she wanted to admit to find her voice. “Y-yes. She said something along those lines before she left for Tevinter with our friend after the coronation.” _And the biggest part of why I didn’t come back here sooner._

He raised his bushy brows in surprise. “Tevinter, you say? How unusual.”

“It’s a long story, that. Our friend is a golem with free will,” she replied.

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” he said with a brief chuckle.

They made their way into an empty classroom. He pulled out a chair and sat. She followed suit. She dug into the bag after a thought came to her.

“Oh, before I forget! A letter from Chancellor Eamon! He wanted me to make certain it got to you.” She held the sealed letter out to him. “Oh, and Lady Guerrin sent along sweets for the children, and some materials for warmer clothes.”

Irving chuckled after placing the letter in a pocket to read later. “Would that more parents would take such interest in the welfare of our students. In any event, we are most grateful for their thoughtfulness.”

Sevarra bit her lip before speaking again. _Should I? Is it even my place to ask about him? Sod it._ “H-how’s he been? Young Connor, that is?”

The First Enchanter’s features shifted into a more somber mood. “He is not the most sociable of the apprentices. Granted, after what the poor lad has been through and seen, it is something of a miracle that he is willing to use any magic at all.”

Sevarra felt her heart break. “He remembers what happened back in Redcliffe?”

Brown eyes met silver ones as the elder nodded. “He’s plagued by nightmares. Just ordinary nightmares, thank the Maker. It will take time for the pain around those memories to fade, as you well know.”

 _Rope around her chest and hands. Flames licking at the tree. A sudden blast of cold and white that blocks her view of everything._ She shivered at the memory. Oh yes, she knew what he meant all too well. “Is he having a lesson at the moment?”

**

The door creaked as the Warden-Commander let herself into the small room near the library. A short honey-blond boy looked up from the corner of the table he was seated at. His blue eyes went wide after he recognized the newcomer.

“Hello, Connor,” she offered with a smile. “Mind if I sit with you?”

The boy offered no objection, but he did not speak, either. She thought he looked rather small in the apprentice robes that were just a bit too large for his frame. Maker willing, he’d grow into them before too long.

“Irving tells me you’ve been having nightmares. Is that right?”

He nodded, eyes still wide and fixed on her. She could practically feel his anxiety from across the table.

“About what happened, back at your home, with your father. None of that is your fault, you understand?”

His features crumpled into a frown. “Yes, it is. I let her in. She used me to...”

“Hey, none of that talk now, lovey.” She lifted his chin with a gentle hand. “ **She** did that, **not** you. And I made certain that she’ll **never** be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“But people are dead because of what happened! I’m a monster.”

She furrowed her brows. “You are a mage, not a monster. You are not a bad person just because other mages misused their Maker-given talent. A demon tricked you. Tricking people is what demons do. It’s their thing. What happened was the demon’s fault, not yours. You are NOT a monster.”

His disbelief was plainly written in his eyes. She sighed and lowered her hand.

“When I was a little girl, much younger than you were, my magic manifested when some boys were trying to hurt me. They tied me to a tree and started a fire. I naturally got very scared. Those boys died. I didn’t mean for it to happen. For the longest time, I thought it was my fault that they died, that I was a bad person.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of sealed letters, laying them on the table. “But it wasn’t. My fault, that is. Do you know whose fault it was?”

He shook his head.

“The orphanage minder was supposed to be keeping watch over us children. Instead, she liked to spend her days getting drunk and throwing bottles at us. If she had been doing her job that day instead of that, those boys would’ve been stopped before things got so out of hand. Their deaths were on her head, not mine.”

She pushed the letters toward Connor. “Don’t spend so much of your life bearing the burden of blame that is not rightly yours to claim. Your mother and father don’t want that for you. None of us want that for you. You and younger me were victims, not perpetrators. All we can do is learn from what happened and use the knowledge to protect others.”

She nodded toward the letters. “Both your mum and dad wanted me to make sure these got to you. They love you very, very much. You know that, right?”

**

“Just a few spiders, she said. Won’t be much trouble at all, she said. Just a few my bloody arse cheeks!” Alessan whined.

Belladonna wiped the last bit of spider-gore from her daggers. “Oh quit your bellyaching! At least it wasn’t darkspawn! I’m surprised none of the spiders ate any of the mages before we got here! Which leads to my next question: what in the sodding hell do those things eat to get that big, anyway?!”

Their Commander strolled into the room that held the doors to the storage caves accompanied by the First Enchanter, a smirk on her face. “How was your hunting trip?”

“Bloody awful! How do you people manage to grow spiders so damned big?!” the blond Warden griped.

“I’m not certain,” Sevarra replied, her smirk traveling to her eyes, “but I suspect it involves… dare I say it… magic?”

The other three Wardens groaned in unison.

“What? It was funny!” she said with a faux indignant air. “Anyway. Clean yourselves up. We’ll be having lunch with the students, and then we will investigate the basement.”

“More spiders?” Alessan asked with resignation.

“Oh, of course not!” the First Enchanter answered.

The three Wardens looked relieved.

“We keep animated suits of armor to guard the basements. They’ve been acting out of sorts lately,” Irving continued.

A trio of groans sounded in unison again.


End file.
